Historical and
Traditional Sketches of Highland Families and of the HighlandsMacIntoshes of Borlum, &c. Part
II

It was supposed that the
Laird of Borlum, in return for the favour and protection which he had
uniformly received from the Earl of Huntly, was indirectly implicated in
the betrayal of the Chief of Clan Chattan to the Earl, who had him
executed, and that in revenge for this real, or supposed betrayal, the
estate of Borlum suffered some part of the punishment which the clan
inflicted on those who were implicated in the affair. Be this as it may,
it is nevertheless certain that from this time the family power began to
decline; but although decreasing in power, the successive Lairds lost
little of that ferocity which had obtained for them so bad a notoriety,
nor did they degenerate from their forefathers in their deportment in
battle, or their avidity for crime. It is, however, but right to except
from this sweeping condemnation, the most celebrated member of the family,
Brigadier General Mackintosh, or he was more familiarly called, "Old
Borlum," who, though possessing much of the sternness, had very little of
the cruelty, of his forefathers. His indomitable courage, enterprising
character, and unshaken constancy, was conspicuously displayed in his
daring expedition across the Forth—his skilful and masterly retreat to
Kelso—his bravery at Preston—his escape from Newgate, and subsequent
flight to France, which have left for him a proud name in the annals of
his country, that in some measure redeems the character of his family from
that infamy, which their cruelty deservedly obtained for them. From
various causes, some of them, no doubt, arising from the civil wars, in
which the Borlum family took an active part, in favour of the unfortunate
Stuarts, the family was, in the time of Edward, the last laird, very
greatly diminished, and somewhere about the year 1760, the extensive
estate of Borlum was sold. It had been in the possession of the
Mackintoshes for upwards of: three hundred years, never likely to be again
the property of any of that ilk. The estate of Raits, or Raitles, in
Badenoch, was still held by them, where Edward, the last laird resided,
whose character in a great measure corresponded with that of too many of
his ancestors.

From the period at which
Provost Junor was assassinated by the Mackintoshes of Borlum, the power of
that family gradually declined. The clan Mackintosh, whose interest it was
to keep up a good understanding with the burgh of Inverness; and who,
besides, felt the natural repugnance which was entertained, even in those
unscrupulous days, to the perpetration of murder, under circumstances not
connected with the interest or credit of the clan, and which could not be
justified by any of the (so-called) "laws of honor and clanship" which
prevailed in the Highlands at the time, were not slow in expressing their
disapprobation of the heartless and cowardly act. The apparent
independence of the rest of the clan which the lairds of Borlum had, for a
long period, arrogated to themselves, arising from their isolated
position, their previous services to the clan, their direct family power
and influence; and above all, the countenance which they received from,
and the services which they rend to, the all powerful family of Huntly, at
length subjected them, not only to the suspicion of the clan but exposed
them to the secret hatred and open hostility of the chiefs of Clan Chattan.
The consequence of such a combination of adverse circumstances was that it
would be now, that those who were the followers of the Lairds of Borlum,
through fear, gradually became emboldened, as the power of the latter
declined, to throw off their yoke; and that those who followed them from
interested and mere1y mercenary motives, diminished in number as the
influence of the family perceptibly leesened, and the prospects of reward
became more uncertain.

But these causes, powerful
and sufficient as they appear, were not the only ones to which we are to
attribute the fall of this family. There were higher, more potent and less
fallible causes at work, the existence of which, in the decline and fall
of the family, it would be as impious to deny, as the attempt to describe
the mode in which they operated, would be rash and presumptuous. The
Christian believes, and the infidel feels and fears, the certainty of
retributive justice. Its progress may be accelerated or protracted,
but nothing is so certain in physical science,—in the investigations of
the astrologer or the chemist; nor even in the certainty of the connection
which must exist between cause and effect, as that justice will be done
even upon earth; and that he who gives the assurance that the bread, which
is thrown upon the waters, shall, after many days, return with increase,
will as certainly punish "the iniquities of the father upon the children,
even to the third and fourth generation."

Exposed to the operation of
these agencies, and writhing under the withering influences of the
unconcealed dislike of the clan, the openly expressed distrust of their
neighbours, and what was still more galling to their feelings and pride,
being openly bearded and defied by the worthless wretches who had been
called into importance by their power and patronage, the Lairds of Borlum
as they declined in power, became more remorseless. As the means of
committing injustice became more limited, their passions became more
fiendish and debased;—their infamy increased as their degradation was made
more manifest;—their moral turpitude became more impervious as loss
succeeded loss, and degradation followed degradation, until at last, like
the ruined gambler of modern times, who has become involved in the vortex
of play, and who resorts to one unfair trick after another, as his means
melt away, despised and scouted by his former associates, he is forced to
seek other company, among whom he may play a still more
disreputable part,—the Mackintoshes gradually fell from their feudal power
and lordly splendour, and were forced to leave

"The land o’er which they
had ruled supreme,"

and take up their residence
on the estate of Raitles in Badenoch, and sink from the dignified position
of lairds levying black mail, to the less honourable profession of "taking
purses, and going by the moon and seven stars."

At Raitles, or as it is now
called Belleville, the last Laird of Borlum, Edward Mackintosh resided. In
many respects he excelled most of his forefathers in ferocity, and was one
of the most daring robbers that ever lived in the Highlands of Scotland.
Within a mile and a half of the mansion-house, there is an artificial cave
in which he and his band found a convenient and secure lurking place, from
which to sally forth to rob travellers of their purses, and sometimes of
their lives. In a recently published statistical account of
Inverness-shire, will be found mention made of this cave, "It states that
the excavation, when entire, amounted to 145 yards—was artificially built
round with dry stones, and covered on the top with large gray flags, by a
desperate band of depredators, commonly called Clannmagilleanoidh."
Over the cave was erected a turf cottage, or dwelling-house, such as the
people of the country inhabited at the time, the inmates of which enjoyed
the confidence of the occupiers of the cave; were the depositaries of
their secrets, and participated along with them in the spoil of the
Macphersons.

In the now thriving village
of Kingussie, in the immediate vicinity of the haunt of the Mackintoshes
and their associates, there were at the time of which we write, but a few
miserable, straggling huts, whose proximity to the cave imposed no check
upon Borlum’s movements, but rather aided, than obstructed him in his bad
and bold career; for it not unfrequently happened that travellers, whilst
refreshing themselves at the little public-house in the village, were
joined by some of Edward’s associates, who on such occasions kept the
mountain dew in circulation, so as to make easier victims; and when the
unfortunate traveller sallied forth to renew his journey, under the
disadvantage of a glass too much, some of the gang were sure to waylay
him, and ease him of his cash. For a long time, Edward and his lawless
crew conducted their depredations with caution and secresy; but emboldened
by impunity and success, they at length became recklessly daring, put the
law at defiance, and committed crimes of the greatest enormity in open
day, insomuch that the whole district was alarmed, and accountsof
their crimes spread over the kingdom, and prevented travellers from going
by that road. Nevertheless, there were no means taken to suppress the
daring outrages daily committed by this band of highwaymen. On one
occasion, Edward being informed by some of his satellites, that Mr
Macgregor, factor or chamberlain for the Laird of Grant., was collecting
the rents from the tenants in Glen Urquhart, thought it nobad
concern to lay in waitfor his return in the lonely, wild, and
craggy rocks of Slochmuicht. Accordingly, he set outalone,
thinking—being well armed, thathe himself would easily overcome
the worthy factor, and accomplish the object sought, viz., to rob
him of all his money. In that obscure and wild retreat, he remained two
days in the utmost anxiety. Mr Macgregor at last made his appearance,
mounted on a Highland pony, accompanied by a trusty gillie. Edward
Mackintosh immediately sprung from his hiding place, levelled and fired
his piece, but as the factor anticipated that, Ned Mackintosh, or some of
his party would be on the look out for securing a rich booty, he took the
precaution of having himself and servant well armed; consequently, when
the shot was fired, fortunately withno effect,the factor,
in the true spirit of his namesake Rob Roy, returned the fire, and then
challenged Ned to fight with claymore or pistol. Edward finding he was
thus discovered, precipitately fled to his place of concealment, like a
tiger disappointed of his prey, and Mr Macgregor was allowed to proceed insafety withhis wallet well filled with bank notes, gold and
silver, to Castle Grant. All were not so fortunate as Mr Macgregor, for
sometime thereafter, a poor wandering and aged fiddler, who, besides
supplying the surrounding country with his wares, was also the newsvender
and chronicler of events, and who, from his honest principles and
inoffensive humour, had become a favourite for many years with high and
low, and familiar with all, had been waylaid, robbed, and murdered, as it
was conjectured, by Ned Mackintosh or some of his companions, and his body
afterwards buried in the sands of Spey side. Justice, though it may for a
time be eluded, and sometimes frustrated, will eventually prevail, for

"—many a crime, deem’d innocent on
earth,
Is registered in heaven ; and there
no doubt
Have each a record with a curse
annexed."

A drover of the name of
John M’Rory, alias Macfarquhar, from the neighbourhood of Redcastle,
Ross-shire, who had been for many years in the habit of driving cattle
south by the Perth road and was reputed wealthy, was one time returning
home from the southern markets, where he had been disposing of his cattle,
and when two or three miles north of the now flourishing, clean, and
populous village of Kingussie, was waylaid by Edward and (as he said) his
illegitimate brother Alexander. M’Farquhar, or as he was more commonly
called M’Rory, (by which last name we will abide), was rather an ugly
customer to deal with, and in a fair stand up fight, would have paid any
man in as sound a manner as he got. Edward, who was some distance in
advance of his brother, commanded M’Rory to deliver up his purse,
otherwise his life must pay the forfeit. M’Rory did not much relish either
the proposition or the alternative; but ere he had time to speak, Edward’s
hand had grasped his throat, and with the other, seized the bridle of the
drover’s horse. M’Rory was fully sensible of his perilous situation.
Alexander was hastening to his brother’s assistance, and was not many
yards off, when to increase his fear and anxiety, the drover heard the
tread of approaching footsteps caused no doubt by the advance of some more
of the same gang. There was no time to lose—every thing depended upon
expedition and self command. The drover raised his right hand to his
throat, as if to grasp the oppressive hand of his antagonist, but in
reality to cut his neckerchief with his knife. This done he passed his
hand to the reins, and cut them; then clutching Ned by the throat, hurled
him to the distance of some yards, and at the same moment applying the
whip to his garron, made "twa pair of legs" worth one pair of hands.
Bending his body down as far as possible on the neck of his nag, off he
went at full speed. He did not, however, altogether escape scaithless, for
ere he could get beyond the range of their fire the bullets whistled, as
he afterwards declared, "like hailstanes aboot his lugs," some of which
even penetrated his clothes, particularly his great coat, but fortunately
no further. But for the thick quality and superabundant quantity of his
apparel, Jock M’Rory might bid adieu to all terrestrial affairs. Upon his
arrival in Inverness, he called upon the Sheriff, Mr Campbell of Delnies,
(a gentleman to whom access at all times was easily obtained), to whom he
communicated the particulars of his unpleasant encounter. A warrant was
immediately issued, and placed in the hands of an officer, for the
apprehension of Edward Mackintosh, and his brother Alexander, they being
the only persons M’Rory had ever seen and could identify. Although the
officer received injunctions to apprehend the Mackintoshes with the utmost
secrecy and despatch, yet Edward contrived to get information of the
warrant for his apprehension having been issued, and the directions for
executing it given to the officer to whom it was intrusted, when he
summoned a full attendance of his companions in crime to the house of
Raitts, where he entertained them to a sumptuous supper and splendid ball,
and early next morning took his departure for the south, escorted a number
of miles by his comrades.

He remained in private for
some weeks in the house of a friend in Edinburgh, and afterwards made good
his escape to France, where, previous to the Revolution, he attained to
some eminence in the army of that country, but his ultimate fate is
unknown. Whether he took part in the tragedy which Europe beheld with
horror and amazement enacted in a country holding the first place in the
march of civilization, and in the bloody actions of which he was,
by his recklessness and ferocity, so well calculated to take a prominent
part, is also unknown. The star of his house arose amidst the darkness and
the barbarity of the feudal times, and attained, with surprising velocity,
a high altitude in power and in crime. In its progress it produced terror
and destruction—the increasing light of advancing civilization gradually
diminished its power, until, after more than three hundred years, it sank
for ever, and their name

Although Edward Mackintosh,
Laird of Borlum, as already mentioned, succeeded in effecting his escape,
yet his illegitimate brother, Alexander, was apprehended and conveyed to
Inverness, and, in due time, tried for robbery, and other crimes. He
pleaded Not Guilty, and attempted to prove an alibi. The evidence
of Macfarquhar, alias Macrory, as to the facts before detailed, and
Alexander’s identity, was positive; and other witnesses were adduced on
the part of the crown to corroborate, by circumstantial evidence, the
testimony of the principal witness. Mackintosh produced several witnesses
to prove that it was not he who fired at Macrory, and that he never in his
life accompanied Edward in his lawless pursuits—his habits being quiet,
peaceable, and honest. Some of these witnesses had been acquainted with
Edward and his associates, and their evidence was therefore in a great
degree disregarded. His counsel made an able and eloquent appeal in his
behalf; but the charge of the judge—who, in summing up, told the jury that
very little reliance was to be placed on the credibility of the witnesses
for the defence—entirely removed the impression which the prisoner’s
counsel had made; and from the positive testimony of Macrory, and the bad
notoriety which the prisoner’s brother, Edward, and his companions had
acquired, the jury, after some deliberation, returned a verdict of
guilty. The prisoner heard the verdict with the same calm, and decent
composure, which he manifested throughout the trial. The Court was crowded
to suffocation, and great sympathy was manifested by the majority of the
audience for the prisoner, whom they believed to be innocent, and none
felt and sympathised more than the present narrator of those events. The
most death-like silence pervaded the Court—every countenance reflected the
awful solemnity which all felt, and, in slow and impressive accents, the
Judge pronounced the dreadful sentence of the law—the most awful it can
inflict—death. Even during the delivery of this terrible judgment—every
word of which, sunk into the prisoner’s soul, and called forth tears of
compassion and pity from many not used to the melting mood—even in this
dreadful hour the prisoner flinched not—no weakness such as might have
been expected on such an occasion manifested itself, and his fine,
handsome form, clad in the humble grey thickset,or home-spun
corded cloth, stood erect and firm, with that dignity so characteristic of
the Highlanders on great and solemn occasions. Not a limb trembled—his
look was sad, but steady, and not a muscle moved, except a slight
quivering of the lip,— immoveable as a rock. Neither terrified nor
dismayed by the awful scene around, he appeared the impersonation of manly
fortitude and conscious innocence, bearing calamity without shrinking.
When the Judge had ceased, Mackintosh, fixing his eyes steadily on him,
solemnly and emphatically denied his guilt; and said, that although he had
been guilty of many sins against his Maker, for which he hoped for
forgiveness, he called that God before whom he must soon appear, to
witness that he was as innocent of the crime for which he was condemned,
as the infant at the breast. This declaration, at so serious a moment, and
with a certain and ignominious death before him, produced a strong
impression on the audience, which was increased by pity and commiseration
for his wife and family. His wife was a mild and gentle creature, and in
every respect a most amiable woman. The prisoner was removed from the bar
amidst the prayers and blessings, both loud and deep, of the greater
portion of the audience.

At length, the day of
Mackintosh’s execution arrived. How solemn was that dreadful day! Such as
could leave their avocations did so in the morning,and paraded the
streets in gloomy silence, or, if they spoke, it was only in whispers. Bytwelve o’clock the streets were almost entirely deserted, and nearly
half the population of the town and neighbourhood was collected round the
gibbet. It was erected at Muirfield, a little above the town, upon the top
of the hill,

"— from whose fair brow,
The bursting prospect spreads
around."

and on which several
splendid villas, have recently been built. It was then, however, bare and
naked—its desolate and cheerless appearance, suiting well to the appalling
scene that was about to take place. The day was cold and cloudy. The
spectators, ranged around, looked with anxious fear on the unconscious
instruments of death. At length, the culprit, accompanied by two clergymen
(the Rev. Messrs Fraser and Mackenzie), the magistrates, and a strong
posse of constables, appeared. Mackintosh ascended the fatal ladder with a
steady and firm step and stared vacantly around—he appeared overwhelmed by
internal agony—his face was pale, and large drops of perspiration rolled
down his cheeks. The Rev. Murdo Mackenzie almost immediately commenced to
discharge his sad duty. He began by prayer, to which the culprit listened
with the utmost attention, and his countenance became more settled, as if
communing with his Maker, and composing his soul. After prayer a psalm was
sung, the voices of the assembled multitude raising in solemn consonance
into the air. Methought, says John, the very wind wafted the heart-giving
offering to the Throne on high. Mr Fraser thereafter read a text, and
commented upon it at considerable length. The subject of discourse was the
great merit of the Redeemer’s blood; and, as he proceeded, with great
earnestness and animation, he consoled, cherished, and elevated the
culprit’s soul, by expatiating on the goodness and infinite mercy of God,
and the efficiency, as well as the universality of the Redeemer’s
sacrifice. After this, another psalm was sung, and the Divine again
concluded by praying, in so earnest and pathetic a manner as to draw tears
from young and old. All eyes were now rivetted on the person of the
unfortunate victim. The executioner slowly adjusted the noose and pulled
down the white cap over his face, The feeling of the crowd was intense—no
one breathed—a load oppressed all,—the brain became giddy, and every
faculty, physical and mental, seemed convulsed when the culprit’s voice
broke in accents of piercing agony upon the ear, and sunk into the
heart—the last words he uttered were—"Oh, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I
come." The sound was still murmuring in the breeze when the crowd were
startled by a short, sharp knock, or jerk—a something falling, but not
distinctly seen, that

"—strikes an awe
And terror on the aching sight."

and the culprit’s lifeless
body was swinging in the wind, and his soul winging its flight into the
mansions of eternity. With mingled feelings of sorrow and horror, the
multitude slowly and silently dispersed, many, if not most of the company,
placing a small piece of bread under a stone, which, according to a
superstitious tradition, would prevent after-dreams of the unfortunate
Alexander Mackintosh.

After hanging the time required by
law, the body was cut down, and according to the sentence, was placed in
an iron cage, which was suspended from the top of a post near the gibbet,
in order to be a warning and terror, in time coming, to evildoers. During
the afternoon, crowds of persons who had not the courage to be present at
the execution, were to be seen going to view the body in the cage, and
many were the good things said of the deceased. While the young women, in
particular, heaved a heart-felt sigh for his untimely and dreadful end,
the elders were loud and pathetic in their expressions of commiseration
for his widow and children, and the old and grey-headed indulged in groans
and ejaculations touching the career of the family, interspersed with
doubts—rather indicated by a grave shake of the head than expressed—that
those who were the condemners would have an awful account to give of that
day’s work. At length night closed in, and hid with its mantle from the
gaze of the curious, the lifeless body of
Alister Macintosich.

Notwithstanding the harsh
and persevering attempts of every successive Government—from the accession
of William the Third to the throne, down to the period of which we
write—to destroy the feudal power of the chiefs, and to extirpate that
feeling of clanship which had so long and so powerfully prevailed amongst
the Highlanders, they still secretly, and sometimes openly, maintained
their attachment to their chief, and their friendly and brotherly feeling
to their namesakes and clansmen. Neither the Disarming Act nor the defeat
at Culloden had extinguished this species of filial feeling between the
members of the same clan, and although the law was now too powerful to
permit this feeling to display itself on an extensive scale in the open
field, still it manifested itself not unfrequently at fairs and district
gatherings—sometimes at marriages and funerals—and at times in the
everyday business of ordinary life. The clan Mackintosh, in particular,
had preserved with the utmost tenacity that spirit of clanship; and the
disgrace which, the execution of even an illegitimate member of the clan
was supposed to bring upon the whole, was sensitively and painfully felt
by them, and yet though they knew the fruitlessness of any attempt to
impede or obstruct the course of justice, a few of them, resident in and
about the town of Inverness, came to the determination of preventing any
long continuance of the exposure of the body, by cutting it down and
interring it. Amongst the number was William Mackintosh, a dyer, better
known by the name of "Muckle Willie the Dyster," who, from his daring and
great strength, was looked upon as a leader. The day, as we have said, had
been cold and cloudy, and towards evening, showers of drizzling rain began
to fall, the wind gradually increased, and about seven o’clock, when the
dyer and his companions thought it safe to put their purpose into
execution, it swept along, in strong gusts. The night was very dark—not a
star was to be seen—and as the Mackintoshes stole cautiously out of the
town, they, in an under tone, congratulated each other, that the night was
so favourable for their design. They walked circumspectly and slowly until
they reached the burn of Aultnaskiach, when they proceeded up the bed of
the burn until they arrived at the bridge which crosses it, beyond the
late Provost Robertson’s house. From that place they crept, rather than
walked, over the barren heath, in the direction of the gallows. The eager
dyer, in the exuberant ardour of his feelings for the honour of the clan,
urged upon his companions (some of whom he perceived to be getting
faint-hearted) to be firm and resolute, and stand by him; telling them
that the honour of the "clan was at stake, and that not a moment was to be
lost. They did not, however, much relish Willie’s proposition and appeal,
but insisted on the necessity of caution. Whilst the ardent dyer was thus
endeavouring to convince his associates, the whole party (with exception
of the dyer,) were almost transfixed with fear, by hearing a short, hard,
screeching sound, at no great distance from them. The clansmen stood
statue-stiff—each held his breath—every one listened attentively to catch
the faintest sound—every eye was strained to penetrate the darkness of the
night, to discover the cause of the interruption—every heart beat with
fear and apprehension; and a cold, clammy sweat trickled down their
cheeks. For upwards of a minute the whole party stood fixed and
mute—nothing was to be seen—nothing heard, save the whistling of the wind,
and the grating sound produced by the swinging of the iron cage wherein
the body was suspended. The party, however, seeing it like a black cloud
hanging in the horizon above their heads, became irresolute and
discouraged, and were on the eve of returning home, when Willie broke the
silence by a very unceremonious "Pooh, you heard nothing but the wind. If
there was any noise, why did I not hear it too? Come, come, let us do our
work, and the— tak’ the hinmost." On this, they feebly and slowly followed
Willie, who sprang to the post, and climbing up with the agility a cat
would a mountain, was speedily sitting on the top, undoing the fastenings,
and in a few minutes the cage, with its contents, fell at the feet of his
companions with a crash, which they afterwards solemnly declared shook the
earth under them. The body was taken out of the cage with the utmost
despatch, and carried across the moor to the bank of the burn. Here they
made a hole in the sand with their hands, in which the body was deposited,
and covering it over, returned to their dwellings, inwardly congratulating
themselves that so disagreeable and dangerous a piece of business was
ended, and resolving never again to be engaged in such an enterprise,
under any circumstances whatever. In the morning, when it was discovered
that the body of Alister Mackintosh had been taken away during the night,
a reward of five pounds was immediately offered to any person who should
discover the perpetrators of this daring act, and considerable excitement
was created in the town by the circumstance. Towards evening, a claimant
appeared in the person of Little Tibbie, the wife of Archy the Waterman.
She had been at Aultnaskiach burn for sand, and, to her amazement,
discovered the stolen body of Mackintosh. She, with great speed, repaired
to the town to claim the reward, and, burning with the importance of her
discovery and anticipated reward, roared out as she ran—"Oh, sirs, sirs,
Saunders Mackintosh’s body!" She proceeded to the house of the Provost,
who himself was a clansman; but a faithful clansman, who had heard Tibbie
proclaiming the discovery she had made, arrived at the residence of the
Provost before her, and communicated the disagreeable tidings that
Saunders’ body had been found. The Provost, although obliged in the
discharge of his duty to offer the reward, was by no means sorry that the
body of his namesake had been taken down, and there were some who even
insinuated that he was the instigator of the act himself. Be that however
as it may; when Tibbie made her appearance before the Provost, she was not
only coldly received, and the promised reward flatly refused, but she was
likely to have more kicks than halfpence; for she was threatened with a
night’s lodging in the blackhole. In the meantime, another party of the
clan, headed by the ever ready dyer, proceeded with the greatest
expedition to Aultnaskiach burn, and removed the body to Campfield, where
it was again interred, and allowed to remain.

The narrator relates the
singular occurrence of a descendant of the Borlum family, whose life had
been forfeited to the law, being buried not many yards from the spot where
Provost Junor was assassinated, more than two centuries before, and he
does not fail to ascribe to the Great Ruler of Events the circumstance
which thus so forcibly realised the truth of the commandment, that the
"Sins of the father shall be visited upon the children to the third and
fourth generation." Standing upon this spot, and recalling to memory the
former pride, power, and cruelty of the Mackintoshes of Borlum—their
subsequent misfortunes and disgrace—how variable appear the vicissitudes
of human affairs, and the danger and instability of human greatness, and
over the grave of the unfortunate Alister, how appropriate would be the
line,

"Proud lineage! now how
little thou appearest."

The widow and children of
Alister were amply provided for in every respect, by the humane and
patriotic Bailie Inglis, a gentleman who was continually

"Doing good by stealth,
And blushed to find it fame."

The eldest son, James,
entered the Gordon Fencibles, and was speedily promoted, but soon
thereafter died. He was truly a worthy young man. Edward, the second son,
entered the navy, but the Inverness historian never heard what his
ultimate fate was. There was also a daughter, who, after being educated in
all the branches of education suitable to a lady of rank, repaired to the
south. She was an amiable girl, and very much respected by all the gentry
of the town and neighbourhood.

That Alister Mackintosh was
innocent, was very generally believed at the trial, but the subsequent
fate of M’Rory increased and confirmed the suspicion. The latter very
rapidly sunk in general estimation. His respectability and supposed wealth
quickly left him, until at last he became a solitary outcast; in the midst
of society stamped with the brands of perjury and murder; and a few years
after the execution of poor Alister, he terminated his miserable existence
in the village of Beauly.

The estate of Raitts
subsequently became the property of James Macpherson, Esq., the celebrated
translator of the poems of Ossian, who changed its name from Raitts to
Belleville—the original name being in his, as well as in the estimation of
others, obnoxious. This property he highly cultivated and improved,
whereon he built an excellent mansion house.

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